Nobody
Could ever be in love with me
As much I am
With myself
Often seen doing selfies
Capturing myself in splendid digital
Cell phone bliss
Texting my addiction to the masses
Sex is easy with me
And hot to boot
I never say no
And my headache isn’t a problem
Yeah, it’s all about me
My loves and lovers are sweet
But they have stiff competition
ME, ME, ME, ME…
When I fetch for a compliment
And you tell me the truth
Could you be so kind
To give me some pretty lies?
You cover me
Like a warm blanket
When we sleep
With a window open
We protect each other
From outside evils
It’s not complicated
That’s what lovers do
We make up quickly
If an argument ensues
Like second skin
Joined together, me and you
Once was a garden
Where all kinds of flowers grew
Varied colours of flowers with
Varied textures and aroma
Two buds of dissimilar species
Yet similar in heart
They were differently textured
Their worlds were like chalk and cheese
Whilst they were struggling to bloom
Some mild breeze brought them close
They were amazed by the knowledge
That their hearts and wishes were alike
Tenderly were they blooming hand in hand
Strengthening their roots
Dreaming of the amazing life ahead
Wonderful friends they were
People thought they were fine sisters
Feeling alike, dreaming alike
That they will adorn
The world hand in hand
Alas..!! NO. They were wrong
A wind blew so strong
They were drawn apart
Far… Far from each other
The wind, still is so strong
It never lets them closer
Could a wind draw hearts apart
Though it could draw the selves apart
No… Strong be the wind
Stronger is their friendship
Whose hearts beat alike
Cannot be defeated by a gale
May twilight surround with stars above
May it snow and draw them apart
They know somewhere around them
Breathes their great friendship
Flying under the radar
Off course on purpose
Blackened wings
Off the grid
If you want to find me
There is no password
But there is a code
Remember what I told you
My protectors are none
My allies have faded
My course is clear
New frontiers await
I came to you with lust
And ended up in love
But the best part is
I can still have both
The paintings are to be kissed or spited,
used in embellishing the drawing room
or thrown in dustbin to injure the environment.
A sensitive painter is careful
in centralizing all of his
skills, experiences and virtues
on the top of his brush
and skillful to compel the clean canvas
to conceive a painting–
beautiful and useful too,
with each and every passionate touch of his brush on it.
Blood turns into hot sweat,
sheds on the stainless canvas
and a magnificent painting is born,
compelling claps, kisses, rewards and awards
to be generous to drop on it
from the blissful eyes and the perceived hearts.
Maybe, a bunch of blessings are also bestowed
By blissful and watchful aerial eyes
and a course of curses are booked
for those careless painters
who give their paintings just the beginning,
leaving the finishing to money and machine,
produce some so-called paintings–
lacking color and scent of humanity,
dump them in the slums of garbage
and pollute the cleanliness of the environment
where the stainless paintings are still gathering the blossoms
thrown gratefully by the blissful eyes and the peaceful hearts.
“How are you?” I ask you
How are my parents
How are my friends
How is he?
I constantly call them, mail them
How am I? Do I ever ask?
How is the girl behind my smile feeling?
When did I ever worry..!!
Facebook…
His new car… Her new bag
He is feeling super… She is feeling loved
Yet…
How am I feeling??
My repressed thoughts imprisoned behind my eyelids
Are they ever cared about?
My dream to travel the seas
To smell the exotic flowers
To taste the foreign spices
To breathe the wind of freedom
When would I ever let them go…!!!
My comfort zone
Is Isolation
On the perimeter
Of success and failure
Fighting off constant lust
Not giving in totally
Being selective
Choosing only able prey
I am the shark in friendly waters
I won’t come for you unless you provoke
I’m known as the predator
Leave me be unless tragic is your heart
Yesterday
Confessed to my beautiful wife
of 24 years
That I am a poet
She had no idea
Was blown away
Told her how it came to be
And read her a few examples of my madness
It felt good to tell her
I was living a lie
Now she knows the real truth
From her 61 year old dog
I know, I know, 61?
It’s true
Young at heart, still got my mojo
But racing fast against the skyway